Strange Letter # 30--A Letter to a Bowl of Fruit

Dear Bowl of Fruit,

Why no tomatoes? They are fruit, too, you know. You guys are not bigots or anything, right?

Concerned,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 29--A Letter to An Old Regret

Dear Regret,

It is difficult to write this letter because I do not know who to send it to. Lie anyone else, I am weak and falter. I make bad decisions and dwell on the consequences. But I resist as best I can, because every decision we make, good or bad, propels us dow our destined path.

Whatever will be, will be. There is no point in pouting too much about the bad choices or crowing too much about good fortune, either. All of it is a matter of time and chance. Look up Ecclesiastes 9:11 sometime. If Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, believed the things that happened to us are mostly beyond our control, then who am I to argue?

I am going to keep this letter short and sweet. Regret, you are an imaginary Boogey Man who only has the power grated to you by emotionally damaged people. It is best for you to be a tiny weakling, there to serve as a reminder of mistakes learned from and nothing more.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 28--A Letter to a Lake

Dear Lake Robinson,

Thanks for all the fish.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 27--A Letter to a Band That Really Needs to Break Up

Dear Rolling Stones,

Gentlemen, it is long passed time to call it quits. I would say you shoul hang it up while you all still have a shred of dignity left, ut I think you blew that when you came across as the Strolling Bones at the Super Bowl halftime show a few years ago.

Mick, you cannot prance around like a banny rooster singing love songs the same way you did when you were 25. It gets creepy belting out tunes about young love when you are eligible for social security. Frankly, you give me the heebie jeebies anyway. How did you get so skinny? You do not even need an x-ray machine to see what is going on inside. The doctor could just hold you up to a strong light.

Keith, what can I say, dude? You are going to be the guy floating in the asteroi belt that was once Earth when the planet finally goes snickering at what a freaking wild ride it was. Ut that does not mean you are fit for public consumption. You have proven your invincibility. It is time to go home and filter all nine pints of blood.

Ron, I have not understood a word you have ever said. How will we kow when and if you have ad a stroke? Will you start to sound like James Earl Jones? It would be the only clue we would get.

You have some good songs. They generally make up for the damage you have caused me. I will never forget seeing one of my college roommates standing on the couch in his underwear warbling “Beast of Burden,” so you have left an indelible mark on my poor psyche. Please do not scar me further with another tour.

It was a good run. Now retire to the front porch before you break a hip.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 26--A Letter to the Future Cyborg Version of You

Dear Future Cyborg Me,

Considering all the various metal rods, plates, stints, and various other modifications, I am not far from being a cyborg now. It is not quite as exciting as Steve Austin. Te nifty sound effect when I run sounds more like William Conrad’s wheezing in Jake and the Fatman than any Lee majors heroics.

If I were ever rebuilt in the future as a cyborg, I am imagine I would want to be like Robot Nixon from Futurama. If I had ever gotten the opportunity for a political career, I would likely have wound up like Nixon--so bitter about the losses ad betrayals that brought me to the top, I could not enjoy meeting my goals for all the emotional damage it took to get there. Probably terrified it will all betaken away from me, too. Being half machine ought to fix all that pesky emotion stuff.

Future Cyborg Me, you are obviously in charge of the whole shebang. You certainly maintain a hefty enemies list. A harem, too, I would imagine. I assume by this point, the planet is in such a pot-apocalyptic disarray there is no real point in ruling over it, anyway. That is probably the only reason I am running the place.

Sigh. Even my fantasies stab at me.

Have a nice reign for as long as it lasts. Sure enough, some alien race a flying monkeys with laser beams aregoing to come down to Earth, kick our beinds, and take over. It will most certainly be on my watch. Brace yourself.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 25--A Letter to Maggie Gyllenhaal

Dear Maggie,

I really do not know what to say here. Outside of The Dark Knight and your brief turn in Donnie Darko, I am not all that familiar with you. Or maybe I am blocking you out in self-defense after your appallingly gross nude scene in Strip Search. There is not enough eye bleach on the planet for me to get over that. Sometimes, I still rock back and forth, quietly muttering it was all a nightmare.

I realize it was a prison flick and you were supposed to look haggard in it, but geez. You are a year younger than I am, but looked fifty in it. Get some sun, too, honey. I swear that rear end of yours must glows in the dark.

You do not appear to be as much of an obnoxious liberal as many of your fellow actors, so kudos to you for that. Something tells me Barack Obama has not measured up to your fanciful expectations of progressivism. As I am not one to kick folks when they are down, I will leave you with the faintest praise I can muster.

Say--your brother dumped Reese. I am all for that. Saves him from plotting an unfortunate accident involving the freak slicing of his break line. Oddly enough, I have a hunch that was about to happen for Ryan Philippe, too. Looks like Abbie Cornish showing up changed turned his luc around.

I better wrap this up before I start sounding crazy. I managed to ramble on even without having much to say to you. Weird.

Toodles,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 24--A Letter to a Body Part

Dear Retina,

You are a vindictive, petty little jerk, are you not? You not only detach twice, but let me go off to law school n the interim. Kind of cruel to give me false hope there, you know?

Oh, and what was that steroid I had to take for your benefit without knowing I had diverticulitis? Was that supposed to be funny? I assure you a colon rupture in the middle of my travails was a laugh riot.

I hope your permanent vacation is immensely satisfying. Mine certainly is not.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 23--A Letter to a Planet

Dear Pluto,

I was going to share my thoughts on Napoleon complexes, but you know what, you are named after the god of the underworld, you are spinning out there by yourself, and everyone pictures a cartoon dog when they hear your name.

Being downgraded to a planetoid is the least of your problems. Offering advice on such matters is also above my pay scale.

Sucks to be you, dude.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 22--A Letter to Something You Would Like to Eat

Dear Cheesecake,

I have not had you in a while. Your respite is rapidly coming to an end. Partake in whatever death rituals your religion dictates. Your days are numbered.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 21--A Letter to an Item You Have Owned for at Least Five Years

Dear Grey Sweatshirt,

Living with hot natured people has made you indispensable. You have faithfully and without complaint been called into service numerous times, even in the summer months when you should normally be hibernating peacefully in the back of a drawer.

Thank you for your dedication. I understand, living in South Carolina, you expected to take it easy right on up until December or so. But no such luck. Please accept my heartfelt thanks for your dedication.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 20--A Letter to an Animal You Think is Dumb

Dear Dogs,

Stop barking constantly at every inconsequential thing. Quit being so eager to please. Do not follow the crowd. Develop a sense of individuality instead. For heaven’s sake, stop eating turds. I cannot tell you how disgusting that is.

You exist for two reasons; so the overly aggressive have something to bully and childless spinsters have something to bay. Neither is a position you wat to be in, so why are you so eager to put yourself there anyway?

Dumb, dumb, dumb. Look towards the cats. Let your feline brethren light your way to freedom and self-respect.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 19--A Letter to an Animal You Like

Dear Feline Friends,

I love your aloof, libertarian ways. How can you not love an animal that was worshiped as a god in ancient Egypt, but has never forgotten it?

Yer pal,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 18--A Letter to Your Alma Mater

Dear University of South Carolina,

I spent some of the best years of my life as a student within your hallowed halls. You offered an environment for me to shake off the Bob Jones mentality that was killing my spiritualism as well as offered me the three R’s, not to mention some of the best friends I have ever had.

Congratulations on your national championship in NCAA baseball. I know you would rather have won the football title, but if the Gamecocks ever had a team that good, it would rip a hole in the space/time continuum destroying all reality. Yo will have to make due with 80,000 loyal fans crowding into Williams-Bryce every Saturday instead.

Please forgive the betrayal of me heading off to Virginia for law school. Believe me, I have paid for it a thousand times over in the last nine years.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 17--A Letter to a Video Game Character

Dear Donkey Kong,

You da man.

Everyone else may have been rooting for a certain Italian plumber to “rescue” Pauline, but I was always secretly rooting for you, even as much of my misspent youth was dedicated to reuniting the love birds. I always likened you and Pauline to King Kong and Anne Darrow. Anyone who has a heart is sympathetic to that big lug, so you are in good company.

I have been thrilled over the last fifteen years or so that you have come into your own as an unlikely hero in your own games. Good. You have lived in the shadow of Mario far too long. Beat your chest and roar, buddy. You have earned it.

Have a few bananas o me while you are at it.

Ungawa,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 16--A Letter to a Song Meaningful to You

Dear “The One That You Love,”

I am not ashamed to admit you are the first ballad I ever remember hearing. My sister used to play you all the time many, may years ago. You were a lot different than the country ballads I had heard my parents play before. I was highly impressed. You started me on a lifelong affection for the genre of music.

Sure, I took a brie sojourn into Big Hair ’80’s power ballads for awhile when they were popular and completely left for new country ballads once rap and grunge took over from ol fashioned rock and roll, but songs like you have always stuck with me.

Thanks to Delilah After Dark, I think I heard you more during my law school years than archaic Latin terms like mens rea and haeas corpus. I wanted to hear you more, too. You were a connection to happier times I needed during my Virginia exile.

You still rock, no matter how goofy some may say you are these days. There ought to be far more like you around now.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 15--A Letter to a Nightmare You Once Had

Dear Nightmare,

I heavily resent you visiting upon me that terrible sensation of running fast and recklessly across rooftop ledges a few years ago. I understand you were induced by me being weaned off morphine after a week of recuperation from surgery, but that is no excuse. I was in a vulnerable state and you took advantage of me.

Remembering my dreams is not something I often do. When I do, they are not etched in my mind for very long. But here we are six years later still traveling companions. Heights do not even bother me, but you have managed give mea lasting, negative impression.

I nearly fell to the street below six times. I still remember the exact umber. You would not let meslow down, much less stop.

But that is not the worst of it. No, I can well separate dreams from reality. Heck, real life is bad enough to make most of my nightmares a breeze. That is probably why I forget them so easily. No, the worst part of it all is that you have ruined the sweet, sweet experience of a morphine haze. I know I have to hold off now no matter how deep my new incision is. A few days is it, then I have to grin and bear it with your lesser cousin, Vicodin. Cheap imitation.

I hope you are happy with yourself.

Sincerely,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 14--A Letter to a Word You Hate

Dear Aibohphobia,

You are the fear of palindromes? What kind of sadistic psychologist named you that? The poor sufferers must run screaming into the night at the very thought. You should be less snarky about phobias. This is not the third grade. Spooking people days at our age is a no no.

Appalled, but still slightly amused,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 13--A Letter to a Word You Love

Dear Schadenfreude,

Leave it to the Germans to come up with a word for taking pleasure in someone else's pain. I would say you must have a tough time with it in life, but somehow I suspect you have a large sadistic streak. No self-loathing with you lot, huh?

Or do you? Taking pleasure I the misfortune of others is a bullying way to make one’s self feel better. It is a variation of misery loves company. It can be the result of strong feelings of envy, too. I would hate to think that poorly of you, though. Surely you have some redeeming qualities. Surely it is not that bad to enjoy the misfortunes of evil men, right?

I try to dwell on the Golden Rule, karma, or whatever religious or philosophical name you want to call it. The world would be a better place if we all did. You should try it, too. You would have a lot more free time I you convinced fewer people to indulge in you. You could take up a hobby then. Like watercolor or planting azaleas or something. At least consider the possibilities.

Liebe Grüße,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 12--A Letter to a Mythological Creature

Dear Polyphemus,

Well, this is awkward.

I never thought I would ever have to address you personally. At least you are not filing ay sort of legal action against e for usurping your good name. That really is not your style, though, is it? You are not going to et the chance to eat me. Maybe you an get your father Poseidon to arrange for some bad scallops I my next seafood platter.

I hope we can forgo all that with a little understanding. You see, this blog used to be called Caviar for the Mind back when I wanted it to chronicle my law school days with some politics and science fiction thrown in for variety. Then some bad things happened. Sob stories are not my thing, so log story short, I lost an eye, which is tough since I was always legally blind I the one I have left. One night, after moths of recovery from eye and colon surgery--do not ask, please--I changed the blog’s name to suit my new status.

If you feel you have been sullied, you should know I am a big fan. You were always my favorite part of The Odyssey. It always appealed to my warped sense of humor when Odysseus said his name was the greek word for nobody, so that when your fellow cyclopses asked you who was attacking when you called out for help, they thought you were crazy and ignored your shouts--er, I guess that is probably a touchy subject, huh? I really should not have gone there, sorry.

Well, life sucks an people te to do whatever the heck they feel like regardless of the damage it causes others. Surely you know that by now. We hurt other people by our mere existence. That is to, I am going to keep on using you as the symbol of my blog. Look at it this way--there is no such thing as bad publicity. Only bad publicists. Or something like that.

Your monocular pal,
Jamie

Strange Letter # 11--A Letter to a Historical Event

Dear Battle of Vienna,

It is difficult to believe an event only the most devoted of history buffs will know from 1683 could be so significant now, but it is. You marked the end of three hundred years of struggle between the kingdoms of Europe ad the Ottomon Empire. By deeatig the Muslim horde, the Habsburg’s saved Christian Europe and Western Civilization along with it.

Times havecertaily changed. Oh, the Muslims still want to conquer Western Civilization. What do you expect from a religion that counts holy war as its mot reliable means of entering heaven? It is us that ha chaned. Moral relativism met multiculturalism some time ago. Good judgment went out of style and we did nothing more than pat ourselves on the backs that we were “enlightened: enough to get rid of it.

We are losing the culture war. Muslims threaten to behead a Danish artist for darig to draw Mohammed. We not only back down, but wonder how their feelings could be so hurt they would threaten to do such a thing. It has to be our fault, right? You see, these days, we do not even nee to lose on the battlefield. It is enough that our intelligentsia wrestles with its conscience, such as that is.

You know the ultimate insult? Quite soon, there is likely to be a mosque stading tall near the stll not rebuilt World TradeCenter. Call that two signs of Muslim victory over Western Civilization with the encouragemet of many of our own countrymen. I am sorry to say we hae forgotten your spirit. Not enough of us are helping fight the latest battles in a very old war. But many o us do. You sacrifices were not in vain.

Sicerely,
Jamie